


Catharsis

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Past Character Death, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: It was like he'd run out of energy or air then. Ted slumped toward Bill and it hurt a little when his forehead plonked against that bone that connected Bill's neck to his shoulders. He kept on crying, more quiet then, and finally burbled that it wasn't fair.
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Do we even know what happened to their moms? If there's a canon answer I certainly couldn't find it.
> 
> Content warning for serious angst/emotional distress for Ted and references to terrible parenting by Mr. Logan.

The only other time that Bill had ever seen Ted as broken as this was when his mother died.

* * *

They'd sat together on the back porch in silence while the house breathed in and out with the multitudes it was forced to contain. Mrs. Logan had been well loved. Captain Logan had been just on the brink of being Captain. It was like all of San Dimas was crammed into the little house that day. Ted couldn't bear to be inside with all of them clucking their tongues in sympathy and patting his head and commenting on how much he looked like his mom and how handsome he looked in his jacket and that he should push his hair out of his eyes.

So they sat outside and no one really noticed he was missing, especially not with Deacon to focus their energy on. Ted had kept a tight fist in his jacket pocket most of the morning and Bill didn't ask him why. It was Ted's own business and he figured he was holding onto a wad of tissues or something.

Eventually, as the house started to empty, Ted spoke. It was like he finally had some air instead of everyone else sucking it all up. "Do you think Dad will let me keep it?" he asked and pulled his hand from his pocket and opened his palm. He was holding onto a rock, his hand smeared with muddy sweat.

"Why ask?"

Ted had nodded and pocketed the rock again and Bill snuck inside to pilfer a napkin from the stack beside the big spread of home made dishes on the kitchen counter. All of the good smells made it seem like it was Thanksgiving instead of a funeral and Bill's head spun with it. He watched Ted scrub his palm with it until all that was left was the ghost of the mud in the tiny creases of his palm and fingers.

Bill wanted to ask Ted if he was okay. His most excellent friend had always been a man of few, carefully selected words, but this was strange. Just as he was about to speak, someone came out the sliding doors. Bill turned around to see if it was his dad, telling him it was time to go. He didn't recognize the person standing there, poised to strike a match with a cigarette pinched between their lips.

"Oh," they said softly, and tucked everything back into their pockets. They stepped closer and leaned down and ruffled Ted's hair. "You'll be okay, kid."

Ted froze when the hand landed on his head. He'd been in the middle of breathing in, his shoulders hiked up around his ears. His eyes got real big and Bill was pretty sure his hands were squeezed into fists in his pockets.

It was more than a thirteen year old should really be expected to handle.

The sound of the door clicking closed again must have turned some kind of switch on or off in Ted's brain because he shifted out of his weird suspended animation very quickly. His face turned red and his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hung open in an ugly, toothy gape.

There was a heartbeat where it seemed like the whole world went totally quiet. The birds stopped singing. The leaves stopped rustling in the breeze. Someone turned the volume off on all the muffled sounds coming from inside the house.

And then... all of those sounds came pouring out of Ted's mouth instead.

He _wailed_ like siren hailing the apocalypse. His eyes welled with tears and they rolled in big, fat drops over his cheeks. They slid down along his jaw and dripped off his chin to make a wet spot on the front of his very starchy shirt.

Bill didn't know what to do -- whether to hug Ted real close like Bill's dad did when he was sad or to move away and let him be alone. His instinct for emergencies moved him on auto-pilot. _Go find an adult_ , his brain insisted. Bill stumbled and tripped backward over the top step, the heels of his palms getting all scraped when he caught himself. He didn't have to go find someone, though, because Mr. Logan came through the sliding door then. He'd stood there looking confused, like his body was there but he wasn't. He finally bent down and put his hands on Ted's shoulders but Ted seemed to not care that he was there. Ted just kept on wailing and it echoed through the backyard over the sound of the neighbor's dogs running around and barking.

"Theodore," Mr. Logan murmured. "Come inside."

"I don't want to," Ted shrieked.

"Take a deep breath and calm down." It was definitely the most non-opportune thing to say and only made Ted cry harder. He choked and a bubble of snot shot out of his nose. Mr. Logan shoved a tissue toward his face and Ted shove his hand back away. "Your scaring Deacon."

"I don't care!" Totally out of his depth, Mr. Logan just looked shocked. "I want _mom_!" Ted's dad looked like someone had decked him real good right in the gut then and he stood up and walked back into the house, pushing around Bill's dad as he went.

"C'mon, Billy, we should go. Let Mr. Logan take care of Ted."

Bill shrugged his dad's hands away and sat back down beside Ted. "Later, Dad," he insisted. Bill's dad hesitated for a moment before leaving them alone again, assuring Bill he was just inside if they needed him.

Bill wasn't entirely sure he knew what to do. Ted was shaking all over and his face had gotten all gross and now he was sweaty from crying so hard. Bill didn't want to leave him again and the only tissue-like thing available was the dirty napkin from Ted's hands that was blowing around the yard. Bill frowned, he felt useless.

Ted choked and sputtered and continued to cry and it started sounding more like a dry, agonized _shout_ instead. He turned and shot a nasty look over his shoulder at the people who kept lingering near the door, looking at them like they were animals at the zoo.

Ted took his hands out of his pockets and lifted them to rub at his face but the one was all smeared with dirt again and Bill wondered distantly for a moment if Mr. Logan was going to be mad when he saw the state of Ted's jacket pocket. Bill stopped him and pushed his hands back down against considerable resistance. He pulled the sleeve of his summery sweater down over his hand wiped Ted's cheeks and forehead and chin, drying off the sweat and tears and spit. He cringed and swiped at Ted's nose and Ted only pulled back a little before he just let Bill do it.

It was like he'd run out of energy or air then. Ted slumped toward Bill and it hurt a little when his forehead _plonked_ against that bone that connected Bill's neck to his shoulders. He kept on crying, more quiet then, and finally burbled that it wasn't fair.

Bill thought he could kind of imagine how Ted must have been feeling. His mom wasn't dead -- she was out there somewhere on a motorcycle, speeding down highways and across the country. He sometimes wondered if she had a new family. He got cards on his birthday and Christmas with five dollars inside. Ted wouldn't get those things. He wouldn't get the cards. He wouldn't have to wonder. Bill felt bad that it was kind of comforting -- his mom was little more than a memory but she still existed somewhere.

Ted wrapped his arms around Bill so tight that he couldn't breathe for a moment. He started hiccuping against Bill's sweater and Bill hugged him back when he stopped squeezing so tight.

"Do you wanna ask my Dad if he'll take us to _Zyggie's_?"

Ted nodded and Bill was pretty sure he was wiping his nose. "Yeah."

* * *

Bill's dad is away for the weekend. Aunt Ellen had gotten him tickets to some kind of lame thing for old, single people out in the desert. On the one hand, Bill is glad to see his dad get out of the house and hang out with people. On the other hand, it's lame. There would be a bunch of middle-aged people in yurts doing ice-breaker games led by a couple of burned out hippies and Bill just can't see how that's supposed to foster any kind of personal growth or find his dad a date or anything like that.

But however lame it was going to be, it still gave Bill free reign of the house for three whole days. Or two and a half, since he still has to go to school on Friday. He has plans to eat his weight in pizza and forego pants from the moment he walks through the door after school. Bill had asked Ted if he wanted to stay over, they could stop at the video store on their way home and pick up as many as they were each allowed to take out. But, Ted had some kind of pre-planned obligation his dad sprung on him at the last minute, so Bill would just have to fly solo.

So, Bill's Friday night is quiet. He orders in and tips extra when he recognizes the guy as someone who graduated last year. A whole savory pie of pepperoni and extra cheese for company, Bill makes himself comfortable in the den. He might as well get his homework done if he's got nothing to distract him.

Bill's night moves slowly. He plows through his homework and half of the pizza before he turns his attention to the evening news. Nothing interesting is happening in the world. None of the tapes in the cabinet grab him. He's seen them all dozens of times. 

Bill really wishes Ted were here. He thinks about jamming a little but it's just not fun without Ted. He could practice some chords or something -- he's gotten real good at _Hot Cross Buns,_ picking out the notes on the strings most carefully, he thinks maybe he might be ready to move onto something more complicated. But what fun is that either, without Ted? He can't learn faster than Ted. That would feel like some kind of betrayal.

Mulling over the possibilities, Bill gathers up his books from the floor and plops them down on his dad's desk in the corner, kicking his backpack underneath. He could really go for a pudding, he thinks, slumping off to the kitchen to shove the pizza box in the fridge. But it's Ted that's always got them floating around in his backpack. Sometimes Bill can go for weeks without buying lunch at school with the food Ted keeps in his bag and his locker. _Sometimes_ , he thinks Ted is stockpiling for the end of the world or something. Like he's planning on hitting the road and needs supplies.

Bill only hopes if that's the case Ted is planning to take Bill with him. They can't be the _Wyld Stallyns_ if they're not together. What's just one _Stallyn_?

No fun at all, that's what it is.

Bill trudges upstairs to his room feeling most listless. Why'd Captain Logan always have to throw a wrench into things? Bill is _certain_ that whatever it is Ted's been dragged along to probably wasn't even someplace he really had to be. He bounces aimlessly on the trampoline at the end of his bed, thinking he's pretty lucky to have a parent who gives him some modicum of choice.

He bounces hard and throws himself backward onto the bed, cringing for just a moment. His dad is always telling him he's gonna break the slats like that and one day he's gonna be right. Today, thankfully, isn't that day.

Full stomach, finished homework, and nothing worth watching, the night stretches long and boring in front of Bill. He scoots himself to the side and reaches blindly down to the floor, feeling for his sketch pad. His hand lands on a brick of a book and he picks it up by the corner of the paperback cover. Bill supposes now is as good a time as any to read the thing. He gets himself situated under the covers and props his pillow strategically behind his shoulders.

 _Chapter One,_ he reads. _Almost everyone thought the man and the boy were father and son._

Bill doesn't remember falling asleep, but he must at some point. He wakes to the sound of pebbles hitting his window and he chucks the abused copy of _'Salem's Lot_ across the room, diving under the covers to try to get his heart to stop racing. The pebble strikes grow further apart, like whoever is out there is running out of ammunition, and the throbbing in Bill's chest eases up. Cautiously, he slips out of bed. He lets his feet hover over the floor for a moment, just to be sure nothing is waiting to grab him before he stands. He's grateful that he fell asleep with the light on because he's not sure he'd be able to move if it wasn't.

Bill steps up to the window and opens the slats to peek outside. He just needs to be sure. It would be most non-triumphant to open the shutters and accidentally invite Ralphie Glick inside. Bill rises up on his toes a little to see down into the front yard better. Ted is out there, looking up at the window and reeling back his hand to aim another pebble. It's a relief to see him there and know he wasn't facing the attack of Eddie Munster. That wasn't right, though, Bill thinks while he opens the shutters. Eddie was a werewolf. Bill throws the window open and leans out.

"Hey, dude!" The pebble Ted lobbed just before Bill spoke sails over his head and bounces on the floor. "What are you doing here so early?" It looks like the sun really isn't even totally up in the sky yet.

"Can I come up?" Ted whisper-shouts from the ground.

"Yeah!"

Ted swings his backpack onto his shoulders and clears the yard in a couple quick strides. He looks both ways out of habit, checking to see if he's about to get caught, before he grabs the trellis and hoists himself off the ground. Bill watches while he climbs and then scrambles up onto the first floor roof to traipse the few feet to Bill's window. He tosses his backpack inside first and it makes a catastrophic _clunk_ on the floor before he let's Bill grab his hand to teeter over the sill and inside.

"Dude, I could have just come down and let you in."

"I didn't wanna wake up your dad."

"He's away for the weekend, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!"

Ted sits down on the bed and his whole body sags in a most non-Tedlike manner. He looks fragile as an eggshell, like if Bill even breathes a little too hard on him, he'll just shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

"What's up, my friend? It is _very_ early for your tastes."

"I had to get out. I needed to think." Ted screws his mouth shut and glares at his backpack in the floor. "I know it doesn't make sense, Bill, but I had to get out before he did it himself."

Bill's not really sure what's happening. He fidgets near the window for a moment, trying not to look at Ted too much. He finally pivots around and closes the window, then swings the shutters shut and closes the slats with a _slap_. Ted hangs his head and most of his face gets covered by his hair but Bill can see his chin quivering and his mouth turned down in a frown to rival the Tragedy mask painted on the auditorium door at school. 

"Do you wanna talk about it, dude?"

Bill doesn't want to press. It's been a long time coming, he thinks, this break between Ted and Captain Logan. The man never knew how to be a dad, let alone a dad _to Ted_. He'd always seemed more like someone who just happened to live in Ted's house. Bill doesn't know what's happened, but he knows whatever it is, it's Captain Logan's fault. The anger that starts to simmer in Bill's chest is surprising. He takes a deep breath and tries to cool it off but he really should remember from Fire Safety Week that oxygen only feeds flames.

"I don't know, dude. Can I... can I just chill for a minute?"

"Yeah! You hungry?" Ted shoves his hand in his pocket and Bill knows he's clutching that old rock. It's all smooth now, Bill knows, kind of shiny in one spot where Ted's thumb fits. Ted shakes his head and Bill sits down beside him, leaving him some room between them. "If you get hungry, you know, dad made a whole bunch of pancakes before he left. We can put them in the microwave." Bill cringes, the words out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

Ted nods. "That was most considerate of him."

"Uh, yeah... yeah."

They sit in awkward silence long enough for the sun to come all the way up. Finally, Ted sighs so heavy Bill thinks his lungs are probably totally flat. "Dad made me and Deek go to that stupid dinner thing last night, right? Everybody's family would be there, blah blah _blah_. I thought it was just supposed to be a reunion, you know? I was non-non- _non_ -prepared to be dragged along." Ted illustrates with his hands while he's talking. They're very steady when he starts, but Bill notices them trembling as he keeps going. "But I did it, right? I put on the suit. I made sure Deek didn't have any stains on his shirt. I brushed my hair. I polished those awful, pinchy shoes."

"A most valiant effort, my friend."

"I know! Well, anyway... We were sitting at the table with Dad's old buddies and their wives and their kids. It was just so _loud_." He stops and hunches over and scratches his head and makes an awful face. "But Dad seemed really happy! And Deacon made a friend. So I was like, _Ted 'Theodore' Logan, you gotta suck it up_. So I did and it wasn't so bad, honest. The food was really good."

"But something happened?"

"I'm gettin' there." Ted's voice goes up an octave and he clears his throat. "I'm gettin' there. So, like halfway through dinner, this guy shows up. And I figured someone was missing because there was an empty seat at the table so when he shows up it's really not a surprise. I kinda recognize him? Like, super vague. Turns out, it's Dad's best pal."

"The guy who lives in Alaska?"

"Uh-huh."

"He certainly made a very long journey for dinner catered at the Elk Lodge."

"Yeah! Well, him and Dad talked for a long time and then he kept chatting me up, you know? Like when the principal divides up a group and questions everybody to find out who graffitied the gym doors or swirlied the freshmen." Ted's face does a weird little gymnastic dance and then he continues. "He kept asking about school and my grades and if I played sports and what I wanted to be and if I was thinking about college and what my friends were like and... you know, just, everything. Like he was trying to write my biography or something -- it was _most_ heinously invasive."

"Bogus, dude."

"Well, after the Elks kicked everyone out for the night, we walked him back to his car -- or, Dad walked him back to his car. He told me to take Deek back to ours."

"Did you get to drive home?"

"Of course not, this _is_ my dad we're talking about. But, anyway, when Dad finally came back, Deacon was half-passed-out on me in the back of the wagon and Dad had this big fat folder with him that he didn't say anything about and when we got home he basically just sent us to bed and that was that."

Bill is most perplexed. He really doesn't understand what Ted is so distressed about, mostly because Ted can't seem to come out and say it. He wants Ted to spit it out but it feels too harsh to even think that way. Ted leans forward and his shorts stick out of the back of his pants and he drags his backpack toward himself. When he unzips it, there's none of the usual detritus of the school week. Instead, it's full of puddings and sleeves of crackers and a can of peanuts and extra socks and underwear and a balled up pair of jeans and another tee shirt and Bill has _no_ idea how Ted has managed to get it all in there. He has to dump some of it out to get at a crumpled, awkwardly folded manila envelope. Ted shoves it into Bills hands and flops back onto the bed, making them both bounce a little.

"Go ahead, open it."

Bill turns the envelope over in his hands while Ted stares at the ceiling and his eyes well with tears. He's got his hand closed in a fist around the rock out of his pocket and the tears slide down over his temples and disappear into his hair. The envelope has a very neatly typed-on address label on the front. _T. Logan_ , it says with his address. In the top corner it has an address in Alaska and a big, bold _OMA._ Bill pinches the metal piece on the back open, but it's not very effective since Ted's already obviously torn into the thing.

"I waited until he went to bed and then went through his desk. He's getting _rid of me_."

"What?" Bill can't hide the disbelief in his tone and Ted shouts at him to just read what's in the envelope already.

 _Mr. Logan,_ it starts. _The administration of Oats Military Academy is pleased to offer you a place in our rolling enrollment program. As you have been accepted to the Academy but deferred registration for the current semester, a spot will be reserved for your attendance in the Spring [beginning January 3rd]._

"What is this garbage?" Bill asks as he leafs through the thick stack of papers in the admissions packet. There's a neatly bound student handbook that he scans the pages of.

"He's always threatened it but I thought it was just one of those things. Like when they threaten to ground you because you didn't mow the lawn or whatever and it's not an issue anymore once you do whatever it is that you forgot to. I didn't think he was _serious_. But the guy, Dad's pal, he's the Oats in _Oats Military Academy_. He brought that thing with him. They've been _planning it_."

Ted rolls back up to a sitting position and he's crying in earnest -- quietly, but earnestly. Bill reads through a list of personal possessions that students are allowed to keep. It's a very short, very specific list. No where on the list is anything that would be remotely personal to Ted.

Ted looks like he's gonna pull a Linda Blair. He's clutching his stomach and doubling over but instead of awful pea soup it's just sound that comes shooting out of his mouth. "He doesn't _want_ me anymore, Bill."

" _Ted_. I can _not_ believe that your own dad doesn't _want you_."

"Have you met my dad?"

Bill has and that's half the problem. He definitely doesn't think that it's true that Captain Logan doesn't _want_ Ted anymore. But he definitely does agree that this most egregious action has been in the works for some time. "He can't just send you to Alaska. You don't even have a passport. You can't go to Canada -- that's like, smuggling?"

"Alaska is part of the United States, Bill."

"But you have to go through Canada to get there, Ted."

"I can't stay there anymore. If I stay there it's just a matter of time until he puts me on a plane and sentences me to death on the tundra."

"He's not gonna do that. He can't do that."

"He already did it, Bill!"

"But the letter says it's not until January! There's time! We can change his mind. _You_ can change his mind. What's his deal? What doesn't he like?"

"He doesn't like _me_. He doesn't like anything about me." Ted is talking through a most concerning bout of hyperventilation. His whole face is like an tomato from the farmer's market. "I'm not enough like _him_. School's too hard. I don't like that team stuff. I don't talk right. I don't stand right. My room doesn't look right. My clothes are no good." Ted finishes in a barely audible whisper, "Mom liked me."

"We can find you a tutor. We can find _us_ a tutor. I could use some help too, dude. And you could try out for wrestling again! You were pretty good at that!"

"I hated wrestling." Ted shakes all over and hiccups so hard Bill thinks he actually chokes for a moment.

"Ted you can't go."

"I have to! I have it figured out." He takes a break to catch his breath. He shoves the rock back in his pocket and starts shoving his stuff back into his backpack. "I called that comic shop at the beach. Those weird kids that work there are at school during the day, right? So they need someone to work during the day. I can work there and stay at the motel -- it's the off-season so it's empty and they're practically giving rooms away."

"Ted, how are you going to get all the way to Santa Carla?"

"The train," Ted sobs. His mouth makes a monstrous shape and he cries but no sound comes out. He sucks in a tremendous breath. "I'll call the school and let them know I dropped out on Monday."

Bill is... Bill is _furious_.

He's mad at Captain Logan for being such a mega dickweed.

He's mad at that Oats guy for playing this game.

He's mad at Ted for giving up and for even entertaining the idea of _leaving_.

How could he do that? How could he do that _to Bill_.

Bill reaches out and grabs a fistful of Ted's shirt before he realizes what he's doing. "Stop it!"

"Get off me!"

"Shut up, Ted!"

"You shut up, Bill!"

"No, _you_ shut up and _listen_ to me." He shakes Ted and Ted looks shocked. "We're gonna fix this."

"How?" Ted whispers.

"I.. I don't know." Bill deflates and lets his hand fall. "You're staying here today, though." Bill straightens himself up and sticks his chin out, trying to look more confident than he feels. "We'll lock all the doors and we won't turn any lights on. He can't... he -- he needs a warrant, right? To get inside someone's house?"

"Yeah!" Ted tries to sound enthusiastic but it just sounds like somebody ran over his toes with their bike instead.

Bill lifts his hands and drops them again. He just wants to hug Ted very tight, but they're practically adults. They're not ankle biters with braces and skinned knees. Men don't do that even if they are the most excellent of friends. Ted covers his face and cries again. He can't seem to stop himself. It's coming in waves that Bill can't keep up with.

Bill reaches out and grabs Ted's shoulders and yanks him in close and wraps his arms around Ted as securely as he can. Ted goes stiff as a board and then melts, utterly defeated. The front of Bill's shirt is damp enough to feel it on his skin in very little time between Ted's open mouth and leaky eyes. Awkwardly, Bill tips his head back because it's the only way Ted's body fits squeezed against him like this. Bill's not gonna lose his best pal. He categorically _refuses_.

Bill's pretty sure Captain Logan doesn't need a warrant to come drag Ted off.

"You're gonna stay here," Bill assures Ted -- and himself. "You're not going to Santa Carla. Or Alaska."

"Okay," Ted hiccups, punctuating the agreement with a most heinous sniffle. "Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"I am kinda hungry. Can we have those pancakes?"

**Author's Note:**

> I feel bad saying the usual? But I do still love comments even when the thing is sad.
> 
> [Find me here.](https://aryagreenleaf.carrd.co/)


End file.
